Szhizophrenia: Zero
by M2
Summary: This be the prologue to Schizophrenia. Kinda explains why Loren hates Dr. Mason so much, and where the Mewtwo came from. One shot, rather short. R&R please!


Disclaimer: I don't own Mewtwo. I own original characters and concepts. Blaa blaa. You wanna use my characters, ask me, and I'll be happy to oblige. Don't steal.

Schizophrenia: Zero

Prologue to Schizophrenia

Due to a good point made by The Evil Mewthree, I've decided to write this prologue. I'm also planning on revamping the old chapters. No big differences, just gonna add some stuff. More building of characters, more funny scenes, that kind of stuff. But for now, here's the prologue.

* * *

"Dammit!" I ran as fast as I could, considering the bulk that was my backpack filled with heavy school books that was slowing me down. I ran alongside the bus, which was just pulling out of the bus stop area. I tapped the side of the bus to catch the driver's attention, with no such avail. The bus sped up and left the bus stop. I watched it growing smaller, the rear lights mocking me with their glimmering, saying "Haa haa, better luck next time."

"I hate public transport..." I turned around and returned to the bus-stop. I spotted the time tables at the right side of the fibreglass shelter and walked over, checking the time from my mobile phone. 08:37. The busses went at:

08:12

08:35

08:59

"Perfect. Juust peachy." _Now I gotta wait for three ages for the next bus. _It was a grey autumn morning. The trees were starting to go yellow and the air was cold. Cold in the morning, so you have to dress warmly, warm in the afternoon so you have to carry all the warm clothing you were wearing in the morning. It didn't help that my school was an hour's bus trip away. _Well, I got time, so..._ I dug out my book from my backpack and found my spot. Dreamcatcher by Stephen King. I had seen the movie, but I found that the book was more fun than the movie. More atmospheric. More graphic.

I read for an length of time the length of which was unknown to me. Not wearing a watch had its drawbacks. However, I felt they were worth the lack of the annoying feeling of having something wrapped around my wrist all the time. I looked up from my book to see it the bus was coming. No sign of it. A car passed by. _Lucky bastards... Huh?_ I saw a black figure accross the street that I didn't remember seeing before. It was a man, dressed in a black suit, wearing sunglasses. He seemed to be looking at me from accross the street, but I couldn't see his eyes, so I wasn't sure whether it was me he was looking at or just something in my general direction. Or perhaps just staring into emptiness? One of those thousand-year stares you go into when engrossd in thought, that you always snapped out of to find yourself suddenly confronted by the harshness of reality. In my case, I found myself confronting the harsh reality of my bus arriving. It's strange how in these situations everything seems to speed up and slow down at the same time; Your thoughts say _Oh, crap, did I blow it, is it gonna pass by? I should have been paying attention instead of staring off at some guy who was probably staring right back at me, wondering why I was staring at him, looking so weird in my 'Outback' hat, complete with croc-teeth, handmade in Australia and sold in a tourist shop for 150 dollars, which seems ever so popular among everyone at school; the guys wanna try it on, and the girls comment on how cool it looks, but everyone in the street think I'm some tourist from America, looking for something to photograph, until they hear me speak Finnish on my mobile, which is when they figure I'm just some kid who bought a weird hat from a weird shop. But besides that, if I miss this bus, I'm donna have to wait for the next one, and I don't even know when that's gonna come, and the teacher's gonna crucify me if I'm late for class again,_ and at the same time, you barely have time to raise your hand to show the driver you want on, afraid it might pass without stopping. It didn't. I marked the spot in my book and picked up my backpack. I took one more look across the street, but in the split second that I actually saw accross the street before my sight was blocked by the bus, the sidewalk was empty.

* * *

Elsewhere, in a well-guarded laboratory complex, funded by unknown sources, located in a unknown region, In a brightly lit conference room 20 metres underground, a labcoated man sat on a large chair, facing a laptop. He was neither fat, nor slim, but he wasn't well-built. He had the kind of physique you'f expect to find on a person who doesn't eat to excess, but doesn't starve himself; Doesn't work out, but has more power in his muscles than is the bare minimum to be abled to move his body. In a word: Normal.

Standing by him was another man in a labcoat, also looking at the laptop. He was skinnier than the man who was sitting in the chair, but had more to show for it in the way of knowledge. "We managed to extract the data needed for the execution of project Alpha. Unfortunately the collection of the actual specimen is beyond both our power and funds, so we had to make do with what we could. We managed to achieve our goal and obtain all the data we need. However, there's a catch," said the man standing up, gesturing towards the laptop.

"Isn't there always," the sitting man raplied, resting his chin on his crossed fingers, watching the screen.

"We don't have the technology required to create the specimen, and we haven't been abled to gain access to any, because the original machinery was destroyed by Mewtwo himslef, and we are incapable of gaining access to other dimensions where this technology would be available." The standing man paused. "Project Beta does not seem to... co-operate."

"The portal stone has a mind of its own, I hear. We're lucky to have access to the one dimension we _do_ have access to. What is is you plan to do about this... catch?"

"We may not be abled to create a physical form for this entity... but we can commandeer one."

The man sitting down was silent for a moment. "Have you found a subject?"

"We narrowed our possibilities down and we've found one which seems very appropriate."

"Where?"

"In Helsinki, Finland. He seems to take an interest in martial arts, but lacks the initiative at this point. We've dispatched some agents to observe him."

"We still need some months to prepare both the hardware and software, plus a few more to test them to ensure a succesful transfer."

"Very good, Hummel. You seem to have everything planned out. Begin preparations immediately. Continue observing the subject." Dr. Mason stood up and walked towards the door, then stopped and turned his head back: "What's the sibject's name?"

"Loren, sir. Short for Lawrence."

"Loren... And this initiative you say he lacks." Dr. Mason paused; "Make sure he gains it," before leaving the room.

* * *

"No, what I mean is I like to think that nothing's impossible, just exceedingly improbable."

"I'm not saying I think you think anything's possible"

"I'm not saying anything's possible, I'm saying nothing's impossible"

"They're one and the same!"

"No. It's like math. X belongs to Y but Y doesn't necessarily belong to X."

"But X + Y Z and Y Z - X are the same."

"But that's not the same thing!"

"Put it this way: this is a philosophical question, in other words there's no answer, only interpretations."

"Don't you go Freudy on me."

"Pfff"

Such was our normal conversation. Tom and I were always arguing about something. We enjoyed arguing over utterly trivial, insignificant, meaningless things. Sometimes we disagreed with a perfectly good point just so we would have an excuse to argue over it. It was fun.

Tom had been my best friend since we were but kindergarteners, fantasizing over the idea of dropping Hackmann-Havi, the local soapfactory on the dance-school our kindergarten group regularly visited. How it would probably crush the 3 story building to a pile of rubble about 1 metre thick. Now we fantasized about investigating the acceleration of an overhead projector due to gravity by lobbing it out of the fourth story window and down to the pavement below. Unfortunately, for some undefined reason, the teacher hadn't entirely agreed with us concerning the executability of said experiment.

"Why don't you come over to my house for a few hours today? I've got this great film with Hugh Laurie that you just gotta see. It's hilarious!"

That had been my suggestion earlier on that day.

Now we were walking over to my house from the bus-stop, which was located a 10 minute walk away from my house. We had decided to cut through the park, because there were no cars in the park, and thus it was much quieter, despite the fact that the crunching of the sand path under our feet seemed deafening in the silent darkness of an autumn evening.

I heard the steps dehind us, but I though tnothing of it. It was, ater all, a public park. I would regret that for a long time.

I felt a dull thud agaist the back of my head, and I slumped to the ground like a bag of potatoes. I felt dizzy, the sharp stones of the path digging into the palms of my hands. I tried to gather my thought, but everything kept swirling around. Just then, I heard Tom's voice, crying out "what the fuck?", before I heard another thud, and Tom stumbled back, almost tripping over me. That cleared my mind enough for me to try to stand up. I still felt wobbly. The swirling had dulled, but it was still there, like a veil, proeventing me from seeing properly. I used all my might to try to see porperly. What I saw, was a man, dressed in a black suit, white shirt, black tie, black sunglasses, accompanied by another man, dressed matchingly.

"You..." I managed to say, before I saw him draw a knife, instinctual panic rising up inside me. I fought to overcome it, but a shriek escaped my throat, before he lunged forth and made a wide arc with the knife, cutting diagonally accross my chest. I felt a stinging pain right accross my chest, and I keeled over backwards, falling on my back, cradling my wounded chest, hoping to ease the pain. No such luck. I cringed and twisted, but no relief came.

Over my own anguish, I heard Tom get up, then I heard a dull sticking sound as the man stabbed the knife into Tom's gut. He cried out from pain, then folded over and fell to the ground, as much out of the game as I was. I heard the men approaching. _This is it. This is how I die. _"Wh...Why...?" I tried to ask, but my voice came out but a whisper. I cringed, waiting for the inevitable, expecting the cold cruel blade to stick itsself into my back at any moment now. I found myself wanting it to come, just to end it. It seemed waiting for the blade to come was surely worse than it actually coming. I feltmore frustrated than ever. Tears of rage, pain and sadness clouded my vision. _We never stood a chance... _Yet with all the rage I could muster, I couldn't get up from the ground. I found I couldn't move at all. I was petrifiad, waiting for the knife to come. I felt one of the men kick my back, knocking my breath out. The frustration seemed to cloud over the pain and sadness.

"That's enough."

I didn't even hear the voice that was my saviour, yet in no way kind nor compassionate. I only vaguely saw the figure in the labcoat through my tears. The two other men were walking away now, on both sides of the man in the labcoat. Finally the man in the labcoat turned and left as well, leaving us writhing on the ground.

I turned to Tom, who was lying on his back, blood trickling from his mouth. He stared through me with empty eyes.

I tried to crawl to him, but my strength was gone. I could only reach for my friend as I heard a female voice yelling something, incomprehensible to me, as my vision blurred and all went dark.

* * *

Loren! Loren, can you hear me? Loren! Who could have done this, I..."

* * *

His condition's stabilizing. His vital organs are fine, but he has a deep cut accross his chest. It'll heal over a few months, but it'll leave a scar for the rest of his life..."

* * *

The puncture wound in his abdomen caused some bleeding, but we've managed to stop it. None of his vitals were damaged. He should be fine again in a few months."**

* * *

8 months later**

* * *

"Loren! Loren, get up, it's one o'clock already!"

I grumbled. "What's for lunch?" I half mumbled, half shouted.

"Sweet and Sour Chicken! Hurry up or it'll get cold!"

"Blaergh." I pushed myself up to look around. My eyes were greeted with the sight of my summer-house bedroom in the country. I looked out the window, dinding there to be a blue sky and a few tufts of clouds here and there. Also known as: Good weather. Seeing this, my mind automatically brightened slightly, so I sat up, now sitting on the edge of my bed. I fumbled for my pants, then pulled them on, standing up to tie waist. I picked up my t-shirt, then headed downstairs, putting on the shirt as I descended the stairs.

"Morning" I greeted my mother sleepily as I entered the kitchen. The smell of rice and sweet-andsour sauce filled the air. "Mmmm, smells good." I commented as I headed for the food. I scooped myself a portion; rather large by some standards, but very normal by mine.

I proceeded to the lounge room, where I ate my lunch while watching the beginning of Speed. Around half-way through, well after I had finished my lunch, I stopped the tape and took my dishes to the kitchen.

"I feel like shooting something..." I headed to the barn, where I kept my air rifle and pringle cans.

* * *

There! Prologue to Schizophrenia! Like? No? R&R Please! 


End file.
